Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(85)

The sound was right, was an echo of what was happening inside him.

He picked up another stone. Then another. And another.

By the time he ran out of stones, he’d broken every single pane of glass that had previously provided a view from the house into the garden. Shards glittered under the small lights that had come on automatically when he stepped outside. He’d put in those lights because he knew Kit often sat in her garden at night. He’d liked to imagine her here, a cup of green tea in hand as she relaxed after dinner.

“You done?”

Jerking around, he saw Fox leaning in the doorway that led into the garden from near the living area, his arms folded and his expression unreadable.

“How the f*ck did you get in?”

“You gave me a key,” Fox reminded him. “I wouldn’t have come inside on my own except you weren’t answering the door.”

Chest heaving and hair falling over his eyes, Noah stared at his friend. “It’s eleven at night. You didn’t just decide to leave Molly and Sarah alone and drive over here.”

“Sarah’s asleep and Molly’s talking to her best friend on the phone.” Fox’s eyes watched him without blinking. “I’m going to make you some coffee.”

Noah didn’t go inside. He destroyed what little remained of the garden. When he was done, no one would’ve guessed that there’d once been a pathetic little garden here. No one could see his f*cking heart, all stunted and hopeful and overgrown with weeds.

“Here.” Walking out, Fox thrust a mug of coffee into his hand.

Holding his own cup, the lead singer looked around. “Feel better?”

“Go to hell.” Noah threw the damn coffee against a wall. It made a satisfying crash of sound, the coffee dripping like blood down the white stucco.

Fox didn’t look at the new damage. “Kit called me.”

Skin going tight all over his body, Noah stared at the coffee-stained wall. “Why?”

“She thought you might do something stupid.” Fox took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t think she was thinking about garden destruction.”

Noah fisted his hands. He wasn’t going to talk about Kit to anyone.

“What did you do?”

“None of your f*cking business.”

“Fair enough.” Fox drank more of his coffee. “Do I need to punch you in the face?”

Glancing at the other man, Noah shrugged. “It’s done. Over.”

Fox’s eyes looked black in the light as he held Noah’s gaze. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck you.”

“Now that we’re past that, we’re going to talk.”

Snorting, Noah swiveled on his heel and went to walk inside. Fox blocked him. Noah shoved at his shoulder, Fox shoved back, and then they were throwing punches, Fox’s mug falling unheeded to the rucked up dirt and dying plants. If it had been Abe, Noah would’ve been in trouble—the keyboard player was big enough that his size was a distinct advantage in a fight.

Fox and Noah, however, were evenly matched. He landed a punch for every one of Fox’s. His fist smashed into Fox’s cheek, the other man’s slammed into his jaw, making his teeth crash down on the side of his tongue and the hot taste of blood fill his mouth. He retaliated with a punch to Fox’s ribs that made the lead singer double over.

Reacting to the hit, Fox headbutted him in the gut, taking him to the dirt.

And Noah stopped thinking.




Wiping the blood off his face with a towel some time later, Noah looked in the mirror. “You f*cked up my face, man.”

“Shut the f*ck up,” Fox snarled from the kitchen area.

When Noah walked in, the other man threw him a bag of frozen peas that had probably been around since the Ice Age. Noah didn’t even know who had put it in his freezer. Fox was holding another bag of some frozen thing against his eye.

Noah chose to use the peas against his jaw. Unlike Fox, he didn’t have a black eye. He had a jaw that felt as if it had come to within a hairsbreadth of being broken, a cut above his left eye, and another one on his cheek. His mouth wasn’t in the best condition either.

“You look like shit,” he said to Fox.

“Thanks, princess. You look great.” His hair damp from the water he’d thrown on his face at the sink, the lead singer pointed at Noah. “You’re calling Thea.”

“Not happening. Let the tabloids make up some bullshit story about how the band is splitting up.” The fact they’d been in a fight would be pretty damn obvious as soon as the two of them were caught on camera. “She’s probably asleep anyway.”

“Thea doesn’t sleep, and you’re a chickenshit.”

Noah didn’t deny it—Thea was goddamn scary when she got mad. “I don’t see you calling her.”

“Bastard.” Stabbing in their publicist’s name on his phone, Fox put it on speaker. “Noah and I punched each other,” he said when she answered. “Our faces look like crap.”

“Of course you did, and of course they do,” she muttered. “It’s not like I enjoy having a peaceful life.” A small pause and rustling noises followed by a masculine murmur in the background.

“David says he’s going to punch you both in the morning.” Thea actually sounded like she was smiling. “I’ll make a preemptive strike, say you fought after a few too many drinks, then kissed and made up. Long as they have a reason and you don’t give them a juicier option, we can ride it out.”